Inherit This!
by iyesh
Summary: By her 20s, Sharpay's a college dropout, a stripper turned playmate, and the one her late husband inherited his basketball team to. In short, Sharpay Evans had inherited Troy Bolton. Troypay.


**Summary: **  
Being a former stripper and playmate by the age of 26, Sharpay Evans was as shocked as everyone when her late husband left her one hell of an inheritance – Troy Bolton.

**Pairing: **  
_Troypay_

**Story Guide:  
**I've listened to too many Rachel Gs and SEPs. I've done too many painful basketball researches so please forgive me if I'm not perfect.

**Disclaimer: **  
I don't own New York Knicks. Neither do I own Playboy and Disney (because it's wrong to own both at the same time)

**Dedication: **  
For those whom crave for more HSM lately (:

* * *

**Prologue**

"I wouldn't be surprised if her sex tape is up on youtube with a million hits."

The day of Vincent Murphy's funeral was so beautiful that Sharpay wished it to be otherwise as selfish as that sounds. Amongst the guests were whispers that she didn't have to be rude and try to eavesdrop to because she knew exactly what they were talking about. They were wondering if Vince was looking down at them who came and pay their respects in front of his Versace suit clad body – dead body. They mostly, however, wondered what his wife would do with the money and the NBA basketball team he left her.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she uploads the sex tape herself!"

Giggles, and then - more whispers.

Troy Bolton was not an exception. He wondered that himself as he moved past people across the parquet flooring entry and moved into the large room. The towering windows spilled sunshine to the now widowed, Sharpay Evans-Murphy's golden head, making her the stood out – just like he distinctly remember of her at high school. She'd always have that glow and impression that people wouldn't be able to forget. Her presence was too powerful and she was definitely aware of that she clenched. The one that even years and age had proceeded won't take that away of her. The only the difference now was that she hadn't picked a complicated pink art piece, but she wore a plain black dress that was nothing but plain cladded in her incredible body.

He didn't know what surprised him more, her choice of clothing or the mysterious way life had situated them into.

Sharpay was nothing but subtle, however he reminded himself that through those plays she'd performed all her life, she was also an actress and he thought she was pulling the role of the grieving wife flawlessly. For someone that just inherited a whole load of money and an NBA Team, she made it as if she was truly mourning.

"Hey Bolton" and turned to meet his teammate, Jeremy Savagar's blond scruff blending with the yellow light, "How's it goin'?"

"Good." He debated asking the next question, whether it was appropriate or even mandatory to ask, "Have you given your condolences?" Jeremy turned his head towards Sharpay's direction.

"Not yet." Jeremy answered. "How old was that guy, 80?" Jeremy stared off to space as if trying to picture him in clear air.

"79." But what difference does a few months make?

"Can a guy still get it up by then?" Troy would never know. Jeremy added. "Sam thought she's so hot she'd done some miracle work on the old machine but it's doubtful, eh?"

"He probably had pharmaceutical help." He offered

Jeremy pondered this only for a moment. "That's true. Isn't Hefner in his eighties and still having sex?"

Troy hadn't known the man lying in the casket very much - except he was the man that came three months ago and his state of being open at the trade season proved his luck. Ty Flynn, their former captain had suffered a terrible knee injury last season not able to be taking the role as the New York's Knicks and he had left his team mates at Utah's Jazz for him (and the money he had promised to pay, of course). He hadn't let the fact that he married Sharpay Evans get in the way of his decision.

It doesn't matter if Sharpay Evans were his daughter - which would make better sense, considering their age difference, but she wasn't. She was his wife and that spoke of what kind of woman people saw her as. It doesn't matter because he's trying to see the bigger picture. Him, leading the New York Knicks to win the Larry O'Brien trophy. He'd have the same chance at Utah Jazz but he wasn't captain at the time and there were no guarantees that he'd be one this year. Despite rumors or his ability.

Sharpay Evans-Murphy doesn't matter, that's what he told himself.

Jeremy scanned the immobile Sharpay and scanned her, trying to find an invisible flaw hidden under that perfectly wrapped package of a woman. Her demeanor, her presence were captivating. Her catching some guy's attention wasn't exactly new. "How an 80 year old managed to tap that piece of ass is beyond me."

The talk around the locker room these past few months has been bonded and sealed on Sharpay Evans-Murphy. Troy had learned she had been a stripper in Vegas, then a model (a playmate or in other words, professional nude body flashing for Playboy) and married the man old enough to be her grandfather as if she alone - with the Evans family and their chain of country clubs - was not loaded enough.

He couldn't give a damn, but now he had to, his chances to getting the biggest trophy in NBA now lays on her hands since she had inherited the team.

She'd inherited him.

Not exactly him but she would be the one signing his checks - once again, deja vu all over, him and all his friends to work for Sharpay. Well not for her since the reason he's doing this is for himself but he'd be working under the snap of her fingers. The only thing changed is the venue, instead of Lava Springs as their playground, it was New York, a whole bigger ball game.

He'd heard the rumors that she was selling the team. Of course, more money means more Jimmy Choo shoes.

He have a bad filling that Widow Evans-Murphy is going to ruin his chances for the Trophy. He just had the gut-aching feeling. How could he trust her? This had the 'You are the Music in Me Reprise' written all over it.

It was juvenile of him to compare the stakes he's risking - what was one time a free college ride with the Larry 'O Brien - but he couldn't help himself.

"Yeah" Troy stifled a laugh. He hadn't exactly told his teammates that he had gone to the same high school as their new owner. He'd considered it and pondered when the right moment seemed to open the chance for him to speak but he knew there was no right time to say_ 'Oh by the way, I went to school with our owner, the one whose Playboy covers you all have been googling for. What's new with you?'_. "See you." He unbuttoned his jacket and realized that seeing his teammates decked out in designer suits is very out of place.

Troy felt his feet getting heavier. This woman, whom he wasn't that very fond of in high school, could ruin his chances with 3 days left to first playoffs. He'd first laid eyes on Sharpay Evans after 8 years a few hours earlier at the church and she was as breathtaking as ever. He wasn't fond of her attitude back in high school but his uneasiness didn't made her any less beautiful than she was and of course he'd noticed how she was always so prettier than everyone else - and knows it.

Once she was done talking to some people who'd probably said how sorry they were at the loss (A loss alright, Vincent who'd want the trophy as much as he did had died a few days from first playoffs) he stepped in front of her and held out his hand. "I'm sorry for your loss." He said tactfully said the opening phrase he'd prepared earlier.

Sharpay looked up from the big hand offered at her. Shock replaced her solemn expression but only for a split second before her cool demeanor slipped back into place. Troy Bolton stood before her, all 6 ft in his glory. He was bigger, more muscular, and age had sculpted his perfect structure making him, if possible, more handsome; but his eyes were as blue as they had always been "Thank you." A slight frown appeared at her forehead and she took his hand, her skin soft and cool against his warm palms. She didn't so much as stammer. "Why are you here?"

"Why wouldn't I be here?"

Sharpay gulped the lump in her throat and answered herself. "You're the captain of Vince's basketball team." She spoke as if she had never known him, as if they hadn't gone to school together, no history whatsoever and that was fine with him. In fact, it was extremely fine with him.

It was _her_ New York Knicks now – but he'd been told not correct a woman too many times by his mother and he held back. "You're his wife." It was a statement but he had sounded puzzled and he had a dash of questioning tone in his voice. "He was a great guy." That sure hadn't whisk away the awkward atmosphere. "I enjoy our often long talks about basketball."

This was not the conversation he had imagined to be having the time he would meet Sharpay Evans-Murphy. He'd imagined being in the old building of East High sipping beers, having her elegantly drank from a champagne flute and making small talk on how she'd been since high school with their other old friends and teachers. He'd imagined her in all her glory proudly claiming that she was one very loaded heiress with no children who spends her spare time watching all sorts of Broadway plays then fleeting to various downtown clubs; flaunting her fabulous life . Yes, he had imagined the next time he would meet her, Sharpay Evans was not the person you'd just forget once you've graduated.

Sharpay smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yes." She drew in a breath as she pictured her late husband talking about his past time. It nearly watered her eyes but with a blink, she'd dispersed it away. "He loved it."

She wore little make up and it surprised him – she was a playmate, a former playmate if you must, and there's no playmate who didn't like to paint their faces - not to mention Sharpay Evans. Where was that glitter eye makeup and rhinestone studded purses with Boi peeking up? "Well, if there's anything the guys and I could do" He referred to the other 11 people at the team, he was captain now, it was his obligation. Her late husband had announced him to be before his passing and he had felt complied that it was his mandatory even if the other guys in the team were only concerned on looking for old playboys for a glimpse of their new owner's body to offer their not-so-concern. "Let me know."

"Thank you." She said it with as much sincerity as he'd given her, which was not much. Like a lot of times back in high school and like most men, he had said all the right things and didn't mean them. Men seldom did.

Vince's only child, Drake Murphy made his way towards them and Troy did notice Sharpay shoulders stiffly squared and her faltering smile. Drake whispered something to her ear and Troy didn't know if he'd like to know what the devil said. Drake was as ruthless and driven as his father but lack the charm that based his father's success.

"Thank you for coming Mr. Bolton." Troy watched Sharpay turned and walked away. Suddenly a crash of flashback hit him, he half expected her to slip a cute little wave and a _'toodles'_ but she didn't. He hadn't expected to be called, 'Mr. Bolton', not by Sharpay Evans who usually greet him at homeroom with a little giggle and a perky _'Troy!'._

"Have you seen her pictures?" Troy's gaze tore from the Widow's departing ass and looked to the left to the black eye of all-around-shitter, Sam Mandel, who had gotten it while picking up a random fight at a bar last week.

Troy had better things to focus on like the first playoffs game against Utah's Jazz at Saturday than digging up his old Playboys for naked pictures of his old schoolmate. He had been a Jazz player but they had put him up for trade and he was ready to show them what they had just gave up. By trading him, the Jazz got a protected second-round pick from the Knicks next year and a future first-draft pick. He knew that they were up for a big treat for playoff's opener, he'd been the the 'enemy's' den these few earlier months.

He didn't have to ask which pictures, "No."

"Her boobs are real."

Considering his black eye, Troy was afraid to know how Sam had concluded that.

"Do you think she could get us to the Playboy's mansion, like maybe she kept a spare key or something?"

Troy had better things to do, like practice, than talking about Sharpay Evans-Murphy's breasts with Sam Mandel. Troy did grant him with a laugh though, "See you tomorrow, Sam"

Moving past the crowd and the colossal double doors, Troy thought about the rumors circulating around that Sharpay was going to sell the team, and Troy couldn't help but wish that she would get that sort out soon. He didn't need any uncertainty that would keep his focus out of winning the playoffs – a former school/play-mate who posed naked for a magazine and marry a 79 year old for cash was not what Troy want as the team's owner. And that she didn't know crap about basketball was just a cherry on top.

She'd forgotten the date of his senior year championship - well, she'd probably never remember it in the first place. Would she 'forget' that they're fighting for the Larry O'Brien too? She's just some fucking trophy wife who's just turned his life in his tangled mess - Vince Murphy's death couldn't have come in a better time.

There were certain times of his life when he had disliked Sharpay. Low moments of his life where his anguish had eluded his better judgement.

Oh the irony. She had once held his future scholarship at U of A and now she held his future of playing for New York's Knicks.

He was sure he'd be able to get through this. He had made the right decision not to get lured into Sharpay's manipulative ways. He had done it once successfully. He could do it again and this time had the advantage of warning himself before it actually happens.

So how hard could it be?

Sharpay could get her revenge any time; she could trade Troy to any of the lowest record team in the country and ruin his chances of being involved in the playoffs. He had one goal all his career and it was to win the Larry O'Brien trophy with the New York Knicks this playoff. If Sharpay did ruthlessly trade him to another team, he would have to wait another year for a shot of winning the Larry O'Brien trophy.

He was set to believing that he'd win it this year. He wasn't the type of guy to put success on hold. It just had to be this year.

Troy knew maybe him and his friends had given unintended harm on Sharpay throughout high school that may or may not still scarred her until now and she still begrudgingly holding on to it. She wasn't evil, just a very driven girl and he had respected that. She was protecting her element; her work, her drama department - it was everything to her, she hadn't liked anything about school except performing. He couldn't say he wouldn't do the same if someone had tried to snatch away basketball from him - or performing too, because he'd admitted that he did enjoy it. Balancing drama and basketball hadn't been easy and he had known where his life was heading when he was offered a chance to play for the Phoenix's basketball team, the Suns, so he left Drama and kept it away as a merely past time. Slowly he and Gabriella grew apart. College ball and law school didn't balance very well. And the last time he had heard from her was from Chad whose girlfriend Taylor brought him as her plus one at Garbiella's wedding to a lawyer she'd met at college and they're expecting.

The sound of Sharpay Evans broke out his trance of thought, "Of course I want to see you but this is not the best time."

Her back was to him, he was standing a few feet away, "I don't want to argue right now." She raised her fingers to her forehead, "You know I love you. I'll see you soon okay?"

Troy continued down the steps, he didn't have to hear what Sharpay had got to say to her secret lover. The fact she had an affair hadn't shocked him as much as the fact she wore light make up today. She was Sharpay Evans, most popular girl in high school, former Playboy model and she's only been 27, the same age as his, and she'd been married to an old man. An old man who left her his basketball team. And now she was Sharpay Evans-Murphy.

Why wouldn't Sharpay have a secret lover?

She'd married a man old enough to be his father and give up her youthful sex life? Highly unlikely. The only surprising thing about it is how she'd able to keep it under wraps for all this time, considering the constant amount of attention she'd been getting.

Putting on his Ray-Ban aviators to shade his eyes from the afternoon sun, he slid into the cool leather interior or his black BMW. He hadn't let the price of fame got into his head, but he can't resist the advantages of having nice cars. He fired up the M6 and drove out of the gated estate and took the long way home.

.

Sharpay sighed and rested her back against the wall. She needed to get out of the room filed with people whispering about her and her slick moves to get her inheritance, and now that she got it, they're speculating what she's about to do next. She didn't even know and people were coming up with bizarre ideas.

"Ryan, please. Now is a bad time"

_"Your husband died and now is a bad time to visit my own sister?"_ He sighed exasperatedly, _"Shar, you can only handle so much"_

Sharpay thought of flying her brother to Manhattan to stare at her figuring out what she wanted to do with her life next – it was a bad idea, "I can handle it, Ry – now is impossible" She thought about the movers in hers and Vince's Upper East Side's mansion right now. Sharpay quickly got inside before Drake Murphy's lawyer started going through her drawers.

_"Do you not want to see your own brother, is that it? That's it, right? It's the only plausible explanation"_

"Of course I want to see you" She paused, "but it's a bad time"

_"Sharpay, there's no other good time"_

"I don't want to argue right now" She raised her fingers to her forehead, "You know I love you. I'll see you soon okay?"

She closed her cell phone right away – the last thing she need was the whirlwind of her brother throwing a fit over the phone. Last night she'd dreamt of her long blond hair blew about her head as Motley Crew's "Slice Of Your Pie" played at the Aphrodite's main stage inside the strip club. Pink laser lights would slash across her long legs and six-inch acrylic platform heels. She would slowly strip down her tiny plaid skirt and blouse in the while moving across poles and various metal chairs while men watched with hungry eyes and pumped fists, holding dollar bills to tuck between her underwear.

It had been awhile since she had had that dream but it had always had the same effect on her. She would wake up with sweats and the anxiety and panic stole her breath and accelerates her heart beat. Being the object of the man's fantasy in bare skin had always made her felt alone and terrified. She had two options back then, starve or strip. She'd chosen to survive.

Things had certainly changed since then, she had gotten a place at Fifth Avenue, overlooking the Central Park – she couldn't have been more satisfied at her new awaiting penthouse. With Vince's money she had secured a place to live even that he hadn't left the mansion for her. He had given it to his son but yet, he gave the New York Knicks to her.

Sharpay is not a sports fan and she had made it pretty clear that fact to her late husband by refusing to come along to any basketball games at Madison Square Garden – and that was before Troy Bolton was even traded to his team. She had learned that her old crush, Troy Bolton was the captain of the team the same day she'd been sinking the fact that she would own the 130 million worth team.

Unlike Vince's 4th trophy wife, Drake had been counting down the days when his father would give him the team. Owning a professional sports team was a sign of extreme wealth – it would open memberships to exclusive clubs Drake had longed. The clubs that thought he was not good enough. The blood bind of him to his father was not enough to secure him a place in the listed members section. Now the dreams of clubs begging him to join had proved just to be the imagination of his that certainly wouldn't come true.

Once she'd gotten into the estate, she spotted the lawyer telling off the movers to pick up the pace.

"I'll need to search that" The lawyer had said when Sharpay dragged her Louis Vuitton luggage filled with jewelries and change of clothes she'd need before she had time to go shopping. Moving her whole walking closet was not an option. The penthouse she'd gotten was perfect, except for the small closet, but she figured she'd just have to hire a constructor for that.

"You'll need a warrant" She wasn't scared of one of Drake's bullies. Darn, she was a bully in back in school. And the lawyer hadn't stopped her when she put on her jacket. Vince had always told her to wear mink or silver fox but she was not comfortable with fur. Just as she's not comfortable leaving in front of the despising Murphy's family but she sucked that up and held her head high

She nearly shed a tear when she passed the chair her husband had died in but she also didn't want to be said of putting up an act by everyone else. She'd rather be strong and keep a good face.

_She was plopped down contently at the chair beside him and her attention was fully focused to the American Idol's contestants before she shifted her gaze to her husband when he took a sharp breath, "Are you okay?" she had asked_

_He had looked up from his book and looked up. "I'm not feeling so great" He set his glasses and book at the arm rest. "I think I'll go to bed"_

_Before Sharpay had set down the remote after turning off the television, Vince was already slumping and gasping on the ground. She cradled his head on her lap and whispered soothing words to him as she talked frantically to the operator of 911. She had told him not to die, but he hadn't been able to live up to her wish._

She moved the long, winding staircase and forced a smile. She had said goodbyes to some of Vince's friends who had been kind to her and moved to the front door. She got into her Bentley and drove out her home. The home that no longer was hers. She had to face the new prospect of a whole new life, whether she was ready or not.

.

"Shar!" Ryan enveloped her in his arms. His luggage far forgotten as it slipped from his grip to the dirty airport's marble floor.

He rubbed her head and she buried her face to her brother's shoulder. He had grown a few inches taller than her despite their being twins and all. "I told you not to come". His cologne snaked upon her nostrils and she realized that she missed him. She was glad Ryan was stubborn enough not to listen to her and get his butt up to New York. Now that he was there, she admitted that she needed the support and Ryan was it. It's just that she would never admit it to Ryan, or to anyone else. She was Sharpay Evans. She was the strong one.

"Nice to see you too, sis." Ryan pulled her at arms-length to look at her, checking for any damage. Physical ones if not mentally. "You seem good."

"I am good" She reassured, "I told you" She pulled away from the embrace and helped him with his carry-ons.

Ryan fell to her pace and followed her towards the direction of the airport's parking lot. "I just wanna make sure you don't do anything drastic."

Sharpay scoffed at this. She had never done anything so called as drastic - except for being kicked out from U of A when his father died of heart attack when finding Lava Springs were going out of business and running off to Vegas to be a stripper - but that was desperate time, and it called for desperate measures. Sharpay had done just that - what was required for her survival. "Like what? Cut my wrists like a teenager?"

Ryan didn't respond. When Sharpay stopped her walk she looked at Ryan - shocked and ashamed at him. Ryan didn't meet her gaze, "Come on Ryan, you know me better than that"

"I failed that when you decided to stoop down to sell your body for rednecks men at some Vegas bar. I didn't hear from you until your layout at Playboy and I got a wedding invitation saying that my estranged sister was about to marry some grandpa named Vincent Murphy" Ryan walked ahead of her once his eyes found Sharpay's silver shining Bentley parked among the rusty, regular cars. It has always stood out just like her, it had never been that hard to spot.

Sharpay was taken aback, but she caught up to him and gave him a cold glare. Maybe letting Ryan stay was a cherry on top of her pancake layers of catastrophe, she didn't need to be told twice that she hadn't been making the smartest choices these past few years.

"That's not fair."

Ryan finally looked at her. Sharpay was vulnerable, ready to untie soon and what was inside was a package of a broken girl feeling alone and overwhelmed, "He was a good man and I had to do what I did to survive."

Some people rolling their trolleys filled with bags and luggage took a second glance at them but none dared enough to approach. More or so because they didn't recognize Sharpay covered up in black turtleneck, jeans and sunglasses and Ryan, the brother who never claim a celebrity status, was fuming with anger. No one wants to be caught in the middle of that.

"You didn't have to do everything." Ryan reasoned. He was beginning to regret that he even brought it up.

"Yes I did." Sharpay snapped, her voice raising. She also didn't want to have this conversation in a middle of open parking lot. She quickly shoved Ryan's stuff into the backseat of her car - glad that her brother still had the logic to do his part. That's when Sharpay realized he hadn't packed light, but she didn't think this was the best time to ask.

How long did he plan to stay anyway? She didn't miss him anymore. So far the support she was hoping for was Ryan dissecting every prospect of her life.

She got into the driver's seat and shoved the keys as Ryan got into the passenger's seat. She inhaled a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles turned white. "You were perfectly fine with the scholarship at Juliard" Sharpay's tone was calm and quiet. "While I, without the help of Daddy's money was a worthless high school graduate that needed to get a wake up call"

The engine lowly rumbled to life as she continued. "It wouldn't be fair to ask you throwing your chances away. Just because I no longer can continue my studies when Dad died doesn't mean you have to. You earned the scholarship and I have to earn a living. U of A was not an option and-" Sharpay paused - prying the right word from her brain but when she couldn't find one she just said. "I did what I had to do."

Ryan sigh was audible in mid silence. "Let's just-" Ryan paused and decided to say something entirely different. "You don't have to anymore, Shar."

Her head snapped in a split second between her twin and the road in front of her. The reaction got Ryan to go on. "You don't have to do everything anymore. Heck, you don't have to do anything anymore."

That much was true. She had Vince's money in her bank account and a basketball team she had no idea what to do with. She could do nothing for the rest of her life and be fine.

"You had a good life with Vince." Ryan smiled at his sister. He had liked the kind old guy - just not as his sister's first husband. "However he is gone now. He's in a better place and you can do a fresh new start."

She had so many options to do with her life she couldn't decide, she could take a whole year off to the Bahamas and not do anything if she wants to. She could go back to school or help Ryan at his dance studio back in LA. She could pursue her old dreams to be a star on Broadway - she did live in New York. So what's stopping her?

"He was my husband." She paused and added, "For five years, that's a long time, Ry."

"Yes but you have to move on, turn to a new page of your life, a life without Vince."

She could do anything.

"It's weird not having him around."

"I know, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Vince left me his basketball team."

She bitterly thought how her the sport of life she had despised, had always been circled on basketball and where that basketball is in tact, Troy Bolton had always been stitched onto.

"The one with Troy Bolton on it?"

The one thing she knew she couldn't do is to own a basketball team with its player clad in a number 14 New York Knicks jersey, because that would be an insurmountable mess.

"The one and only."

* * *

Because I had worked extremely hard on this and been rummaging Google and Wikipedia for basketball facts (I didn't even know what the heck was Larry O'Brien) - please kindly review. I am convinced that this may be my latest best work with unsuspected twists (which you can ask and I'll tell but will ruin the fun). Troy is 5'8 but in the story Troy plays for the NBA and it's only sensible if he's at least 5'9 (think that he'd grown since East High).

Edited: It's been a while since I write. I changed my penname and if you noticed, a few contents of the chapter too, minor changes, nothing particularly significant.


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